


A Confession and A First Kiss

by Athina_Blaine



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 13:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5165960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Athina_Blaine/pseuds/Athina_Blaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As he reached for the handle, however, the door swung open. Standing on the other side was …</p><p>An instantaneous heat crawled up Dipper’s neck and he flushed. His palms became sweaty and his stomach started jumping through knotted hoops.</p><p> <em>Bill!</em></p><p>The college senior stood in the doorway, wearing a black lampshade for a hat and holding a red cup in his hand. His hoodie was inside out and backwards. He squinted, eyes adjusting to the darkness, before a wide, maniac smile split his face.</p><p>“<em>Pine Tree!</em> You made it!”</p><p>(<a href="https://ficbook.net/readfic/4415377">Russian</a> translation available)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Confession and A First Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Признание и первый поцелуй - A Confession and a first kiss](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6988135) by [MirrorGirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirrorGirl/pseuds/MirrorGirl)



The rave music coming from the apartment could be heard several miles down the street. Being so close to the source did strange things to Dipper’s ears. He stood in front of the door, clenching a crumpled piece of paper in his hands. Colored lights poured from underneath the door and he could hear loud conversations through the walls. _Thank God I don't live in this building_.  _I’m amazed nobody called the cops yet._

Taking a deep breath, Dipper brought the piece of paper up to eye level.  _YOU ARE ~~HEARBY~~_   _HEREBY INVITED!_ it declared, alongside several drawings of cake, balloons, and animal parts. The invitation went on to provide an address, time, and a description of the party, using such words as  _FUCKING FANTABULOUS, MIND-BLOWING_ , and  _YOUR FACE WILL LITERALLY MELT OFF_.

Dipper had certainly seen better invitations. But then again, this was the first invitation to a party Dipper’s ever received. At least, in his entire three years of college. In fact, he would have thought it was for his roommate if there weren't a fat  _DIPPER PINES_ written on the envelope. The invite had appeared a few days ago, slipped underneath his doorway. When he went outside to check, there was nobody there.

Part of him didn’t even know if he should go to this party. He wasn’t much of a ‘party’ kind of guy, even if he was a little jealous of Mabel’s night hopping popularity.  _They’re just so … loud_. He didn’t belong in that kind of life.

Mabel was able to convince him otherwise, though.

‘ _Somebody wants you there, Dip_ ,’ she had said over the phone. ‘ _You wouldn’t want to disappoint them, right?_ ’

_Well … that’s true …_

So there he stood, Saturday night at midnight, in front of apartment number 216. Truth be told, he was relieved that there was actually a party here at all. A small part of him figured this was all some sort of elaborate prank to embarrass him.  _Looks like I was just being paranoid again_ , he figured, raising his fist, hovering over the door. Should he knock? He  _did_ have an invitation, but …  _I should knock_.  _But, can’t I …? No, I should just knock._

He knocked and waited. A few seconds passed and his stomach tightened.  _Crap, it’s not like anybody’s going to hear that. Should I try again? No, I’ll just open it …_

As he reached for the handle, however, the door swung open. Standing on the other side was …

An instantaneous heat crawled up Dipper’s neck and he flushed. His palms became sweaty and his stomach started jumping through knotted hoops.

_Bill!_

The college senior stood in the doorway, wearing a black lampshade for a hat and holding a red cup in his hand. His hoodie was inside out and backward. He squinted, eyes adjusting to the darkness before a wide, maniac smile split his face.

“ _Pine Tree!_ You made it!” he said, brushing off the lampshade. Dipper blinked, the surprise appearance of his crush throwing him through a complete and devastating loop.

“I, uh, yeah.” Dipper licked his lips.  _Oh my God, think of something to say!_  “F-fancy meeting you here, uh, Bill.”

“I mean, I guess? But this is kinda where I live, kid.”

“O-oh.”  _Stupid, stupid, stupid, I am stupid, I shouldn’t be here, I should LEAVE before I embarrass myself in front of_ everyone  _and_ Bill  _…!_ Dipper only ever had one class with him before. It was last semester;  _the_   _Psychology of Exceptional Human Experiences_. They had even worked on a report together but had seen little of each other since. It didn’t stop Dipper from thinking about his upperclassman nearly every waking moment ever since. “S-so, yeah, uhh …” He took a few steps away from the door, “enjoy your party, but I need to get going, there’s this marathon of Ghost Hunters and you know what, I completely forgot to record it—!” Which was a complete lie. He had the episodes’ auto-recorded.

“Wait, you’re  _leaving?_ ” Bill swayed where he stood, some of his drink sloshing out of his cup. He sounded disappointed, but Dipper didn’t know if he was just imagining it. “You can’t leave, the party just got started!”

“U-um—”

“You got the invitation, right?”

“Oh, uh, yeah.” Dipper held out the crumpled paper he had been nervously abusing for the last three days. “Did … did you give this to me?” Bill nodded, his wide grin returning. Butterflies rose in Dipper’s stomach, but he brutally squashed then.  _I’m sure he was just being nice._ Never mind the fact that ‘Bill’ and ‘nice’ didn’t really go together.

“So yeah, you’re under contract, kid! By accepting that in …  _invitation_ , you are legally obligated to stay with me— _here,_ stay  _here._ ” He laughed though he quickly smothered it with several gulps of his drink.

Dipper laughed, too. “Well, you’re the law major, not me. But, I dunno,” he took another few steps back, “I should head back home.”

Bill chewed his bottom lip. The gesture made the heat flaring in Dipper’s body get worse.  _Oh man._  Then, Bill said suddenly, “Can I walk you home?”

“What?”

“I mean—!” Bill exhaled, taking another long sip from his drink. He stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him. “Um, yeah, just keep you company or something? I could use some fresh air anyway.”

“Bill, you … Are you sure? You’re kind of drunk.”

“I am not.”

“Dude, I can smell the alcohol on your breath from over here.”

“That’s just my cologne.”

Of course, that just made Dipper flashback to all the times he was close enough that he could smell Bill’s cologne. He took a rattling breath, trying to keep it together. “I mean, what about your party? Aren’t you worried about your apartment?”

Bill shook his head. “Nah, 8-Ball’s got it under control. Party’s pretty much a bust, anyway.”

Dipper glanced over at the door, brow quirked. He remembered one time where he had tried to throw a party. Only three people had shown up and the highlight of the evening was the janitor singing karaoke.  _Sheesh, I can’t even imagine what a successful party must look like to him._

He looked back to the swaying Bill, who was staring at him with wide, hopeful eyes.  _He wants to walk me home_ , he thought, greatly pleased at the thought of Bill wanting to spend time with him.  _Even if he is drunk …_ But he supposed he shouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. It might even be better this way.

Dipper smiled, nervously excited. “Sure. I mean, if you really want to, that is.”

“Shure I do! I wouldn’t have offered otherwise!”

 _That’s true. You don’t care what other people think, after all._ It was, in Dipper’s opinion, one of Bill’s best qualities.  _So I guess I don’t have to worry about him just being polite, right?_

Bill drew up next to him and they walked down the stairs, hitting the road soon after. The contrast from the loud party to the silent street was jarring, but Bill happily filled the silence with idle rambling. “—so then I told Tad that if he wanted to impress his teacher, he needed to just …  _blow_ his senior thesis up with weirdness. I mean, you wanna leave an impresshion,  _be impresshionable_ , you know?”

“That’s not what ‘impressionable’ means,” Dipper pointed out, chuckling. Watching Bill attempting to balance himself and walk at the same time was strangely hilarious and charming, almost like watching a baby deer take its first steps. Bill waved him away.

“I’m a lawyer, Pine Tree, not an English major. Um, where was I …?” He snapped his fingers. “ _Right_ , the Ros _hhh_ _h_ well UFO.”

“Uhh.”

“Lishhen, Pine Tree, you’re a smart guy, and me and 8-Ball were having this h _uuge_  argument the other day and, and … uuh … Well, Pine Tree?”

“What?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“You didn’t  _ask_ a question.”

“Huh.” Bill swayed on his feet, and Dipper’s heart jumped up his throat when he veered dangerously towards the road. Without thinking he reached out, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him back over. Bill snorted and straightened up.

“Dude, you need to be careful,” Dipper said. Bill blinked slowly and then grinned.

“I don’t need to be careful, I just need to have  _you_  around.” He started swaying again, but this time bumped his head against Dipper’s shoulder. Dipper tensed up, tightening his grip on Bill’s wrist.  _Shit, shit, shit, shit …_

Before he could overanalyze it, though, Bill moved away. He couldn’t help noticing how Bill didn’t shake off his hand. After much internal deliberation, Dipper timidly decided to keep it there, although he didn’t move it any lower, despite how much he wanted to.

They were almost back to his apartment building now though Dipper loathed the site of it. Part of him wanted to keep walking past it until they reached the nearby park and turn around then but figured that would a little creepy. Instead, he yanked Bill to a stop and sighed. “Well, here we are.”

Bill blinked, then looked over at the building, before looking back at him. Then what Dipper had said seemed to click, and Bill balked. “Oh! Um, yeah, you live pretty close by ...”

Dipper shrugged. “I guess. It’s, what, a ten-minute walk?”

“Y-yeah …” They fell into silence. Dipper still had yet to release Bill’s wrist.  _I should let go now …_

But Dipper couldn't commit to the action. Suddenly, Bill released a long breath of air. He brought the cup to his lips and chugged down what was left of the drink. Crumpling the cup, he tossed it aside, wiped his lips with his sleeve, and planted himself in front of Dipper, a determined spark in his bloodshot eyes.

“Okay, nooow, don’t …  _Don’t_ freak out, okay? Pine Tree? But you’re like,” Bill stumbled a bit, and Dipper reached out to catch him. Bill grabbed his upper arms and clung to them for support. He had gotten so close he could smell the alcohol on his breath, “but you’re, like …  _super_ cute, you know that?”

Dipper’s heart dropped into his stomach for a moment, and then it started beating a million miles a second. His face flushed a deep red. “I, uh, I don’t …”

But Bill placed an impatient hand over Dipper’s mouth. “ _No_ , like … I  _really_ don’t think yooou … that you  _understand_ what do you to me. Like, this whole ss _stupid_ party, right?  _Literally_ only had it,  _just_ because … because I wanted to hang with you, you know? Cuz, like, I’d be a wreck hanging out with you anywhere else outside of class … But, but then I got so  _fuckin nervous_  just sittin there watching the door, like,  _oh my god, w-would he actually show up_ , and I fucking got myself  _stupid drunk_ and now …” Seeming to give up on standing, Bill threw his whole weight into Dipper’s chest, his hand sliding off Dipper’s mouth, “now I went and botched it because …  _fffuuuuucccckkk_ … I’m so stupid …” he added in a whisper.

Dipper found himself laughing, half out of glee, half out of soul crunching terror.  _Bill … thinks I’m cute? Does he …?_ Licking his lips, Dipper whispered, “Do you … like me, Bill?”

Bill nodded, burrowing his face into Dipper’s neck. “More than I like most people,” he mumbled, and Dipper shuddered as he felt Bill’s lips brush against his skin. He laughed again though this was one of sheer relief.

“Well, that’s good.” He pulled Bill back an inch, smiling when Bill shyly looked up at him. “Because, well … I’ve kinda had this huge crush on you since November. F-funny how these things work out, right?” Bill didn’t say anything, continuing to stare at him with big eyes, and Dipper felt some of his confidence slip. “I mean, I guess it’s pretty stupid, right? But you were … you always were able to make me laugh, even if I was feeling sad, and you  _never_ cared what anybody thought of you … and I really liked talking with you about conspiracy junk all the time and—”  _Christ, he still isn’t doing anything. Did I say something wrong?_ His voice started climbing in pitch and got faster. “—and I think you’re really sexy even if you’re a little annoying sometimes and I can never stop thinking about you and I love how you call me Pine Tree and—”

“Can I kiss you?”

Dipper’s thoughts grounded to a halt. Bill was still staring at him with those wide eyes, though now they had dropped to Dipper’s mouth, glowing hungrily. A small voice wondered if this was even okay; Bill was drunk, his judgment compromised. But the way he was  _staring_ at him as if he were about to devour him … It sent an electrical shiver up Dipper’s spine, and he found himself nodding before he could stop it.

Bill leaned down, badly chewed and chapped lips pressing against Dipper’s mouth with surprising gentleness. It lasted for a moment. Bill inched away, eyes closed and holding his breath, before he descended again, and again, and again. The kiss became hotter. Dipper gasped as his arms went around him, pulling him hard against his chest. He wrapped his arms around Bill’s neck, threading his fingers through his blonde hair and tugging. Bill moaned, and all feeling left Dipper's legs.

Suddenly, Bill jerked away, and Dipper panted at the loss. Bill stared at him, his pupils blown and his face a deep red, his hair tousled wildly. Dipper felt a deep sense of pride at being able to get Bill to such a state. The feeling vanished, though, as Dipper realized Bill’s face was paling.

“Are you okay?”

Bill took a long moment to respond, his expression only getting worse. “I’m not sure …”

Before Dipper could say anything, Bill abruptly pushed him away. Dipper knew what was happening a second before it transpired; Bill collapsed onto his knees and began puking in the grass.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dipper mumbled, crouching down beside Bill. He made horrible, wet noises as his entire body heaved to empty his stomach. He panted and trembled between episodes, and Dipper made small, shushing sounds as he rubbed his back. The smell hit Dipper a moment later and he cringed, bringing his shirt over his nose.

It didn’t last much longer after that. Bill tugged at the grass between his fingertips, breathing shallowly. A thread of spit dangled from his mouth. Then, he made a pathetic, whimpering sound and folded up in Dipper’s lap.

“You’re okay, Bill,” Dipper mumbled, combing his fingers through Bill’s sweat soaked hair. Bill shook his head.

“ _Nooooo_  …” He looked like he wanted to go on, but his eyes started fluttering shut, and Dipper knew he was going to pass out soon.

_Well. At least we’ll laugh about this someday. If he remembers this, that is …_

Holding his breath, he hauled the teetering Bill to his feet. He pulled one of Bill’s arms around his neck and began to help him walk up to his apartment, thankful that his roommate was out of town for the weekend. It took every ounce of concentration to fish his keys out of his pocket and kick the door open with over 180 lbs of dead weight bearing down on him. With a grunt, he heaved Bill onto the couch, massaging his burning arms with a hiss.

 _Okay … so the guy I just kissed and who vomited on my lawn is now passed out on my couch … what to do next …? Oh, I need to let his roommate know what happened._ He frisked Bill’s pants, pulling out a black smartphone from his front pocket. Fortunately, it wasn’t password protected. He scanned through Bill’s contacts though the task proved difficult when half of the names were made of nonsensical emoticons. His heart fluttered when he spied the  _Pine Tree_ contact name surrounded by several hearts and, well, bombs, for some reason.  _Still_.

Upon finding the  _8-Ball_ contact, he punched it in and waited as the phone rang. The call picked up a moment later. “ _Yo, where’d you run off to, man? We’re all out of ice._ ”

“Um, hello? Is this 8-Ball?”

Silence. Then, a tense, “ _Who’s asking?_ ”

“Oh, uh, this is Dipper. Um, Bill left with me about twenty minutes ago, and I just wanted to let you know he, uh, kind of passed out at my house.”

“ _Oooh, so that’s where he disappeared to. Wait, you’re that Pines kid, aren’t you?_ ”

“Y-yeah, Dipper Pines.”

There was a laugh at the other end. “ _Yeah, yeah, leave him there. He’ll find his way back later. In the meantime, hey, he might just be a bigger pain in_ your  _ass than he is in mine._ ” More laughter. Dipper blinked.

“What?”

But the line clicked dead. Dipper stared at the phone for a moment before deciding not to think about it.  _Well, looks like you’re crashing here for tonight_ , he thought, looking down at the body sprawled on his couch.

Thankfully, Dipper had experience tending to the drunk and passed out (Mabel had a hopping social life), so he didn’t mind. Besides, the thought of Bill spending the night at his place made him giddy, even if, well, the circumstances could be better. He found himself touching his lips as he floated about his apartment, deciding he was definitely interested in trying that whole kissing thing again.

After he changed into his pajamas and brushed his teeth, he figured it would be best to move Bill to his bed. His roommate would kill him if any vomit were to get on the living room floor or couch. Gathering Bill into his arms, he carried him bridal style onto his bed, removing his shoes before throwing the blankets over him. As he watched Bill sleep, he was struck by a strange bout of surrealism. Who would have figured the night would end with his crush passed out drunk on his bed? After making out with him? And confessing his attraction?

 _The universe works in mysterious ways_ , he could hear Mabel saying, and he smiled. He had to tell her about this about some point, but it was late and he was tired. Grabbing some spare blankets from the linen closet and stealing a pillow, he dropped onto the couch. It took monumental focus to keep himself from breaking out in giggles and squirming every five seconds, but he managed, and, eventually, he was able to drift off to sleep.

…

Bill woke up to the feeling of God’s hammer thrashing his skull. His mouth felt like a desert, and his limbs were unresponsive bricks. He made the fatal mistake of trying to open his eyes, only to groan and close them again when the sunlight stabbed them. He could tell by the burning of his throat that he must have thrown up sometime last night, but the memories were out of his reach.

It took Bill a moment to realize he wasn’t in his bed. His shoes were gone. And his lips felt kind of … tingly. Despite suffering a hangover from Hell, there was a kind of nervous delight bubbling in the pits of his stomach.  _Okay, okay … just, back it up. What happened after the party …?_

He had been waiting by the door for a majority of the night, even when Pyronica and 8-Ball started playing Spin the Body Part. They tried luring him over with pizza, but he wouldn’t budge. Then …  _oh. Pine Tree finally showed up._ He remembered the giddiness he felt seeing Dipper standing there in the doorway, wide-eyed and adorable.  _Also, incredibly fuckable_. But he always looked like that.

He remembered … the kid had wanted to leave, and, in his desperation, Bill had offered to walk him home.

Then … the memory went fuzzy. They talked for a while though Bill couldn’t remember about what. He was unable to determine whether Dipper holding his hand was just a dream. He hoped it wasn’t. Then they were back in front of his apartment and …  _oh_.

He remembered now. Remembered the temporary courage the alcohol gave him as he poured his guts out to the kid and … Bill touched his lips.  _I got to kiss him._

What he wouldn’t give to remember every detail of that exchange. All he got, though, was a blurry memory, although for some strange reason he could recall the scent of Dipper’s cologne with perfect accuracy.  _T_ _hat could be because I’ve been sleeping in his bed all night._

_I’m …_

_Oh my God._

Bill sat up, regretting the sudden movement when his skull shattered.  _Shit. We didn’t have sex last night, did we? Fucking shit, I swear to God, if we did and I don’t even get to remember it …!_

He continued playing the memory, lingering on the kiss for a moment longer before moving on.  _We kissed … and then, I felt … sick?_ Realization struck him, followed quickly by deep, mortifying shame.  _I kissed him and then threw up all over his fucking lawn. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, motherfucking shit._

He must have passed out shortly after because he had no memory of going into Dipper’s apartment or being thrown into his bed. With a sigh, Bill lay back down, burrowing his face in the pillow. At the very least, breathing in Dipper’s scent helped to settle his nerves. Even if he was pretty sure nothing would  _ever_ be able to wash away his sheer embarrassment.

He stewed in his humiliation and pain for a good ten minutes, wanting to find a cliff to throw himself off of. The sound of clattering dishes roused him. He belatedly realized that, yes, it was likely that Dipper was probably somewhere in Dipper’s apartment. The real question would be whether Bill should go out to him now or if he should cower in these bedsheets forever.

Well … he distinctly remembered Dipper kissing him  _back_ last night … That’s a good sign? Right? Sighing, whispering a quick goodbye to the warm bedsheets, Bill unwound himself from the blankets and plodded out of the room, wincing as every footstep rattled his brain.

He found Dipper seated on the living room couch, a bowl of cereal in hand with his eyes glued to the television. It took a few moments for Dipper to notice him skulking in the doorway, but when he did, his eyes bulged and he blushed. “O-oh, you’re awake,” he said. He gulped down his food, staring at Bill with wide, uncertain eyes. “You feeling okay?”

“No,” Bill said. Dipper chuckled, and Bill’s outlook brightened. 

“Yeah, that makes sense. You look terrible.” He pointed to the hallway to Bill’s left. “There’s a spare toothbrush and some clothes in the bathroom there if you’re interested. You can take a shower too if you want. Just don’t use my roommate’s loofah.”

Bill nodded and stumbled his way to said bathroom. He tore the toothbrush out of its packaging, feeling blissful as he scrubbed the bile out of his mouth. Now his mouth tasted minty fresh. He didn’t take too long in the shower, though he took an inordinate amount of pleasure using Dipper’s shampoo and conditioner, making a mental note of the brand name. He changed out of his grimy hoodie and jeans and threw on the loose shirt and sweatpants that had been provided for him. His head still ached and he wasn’t quite sure whether he would throw up again. But at least he was clean and his breath smelled nice.

Dipper was still on the couch by the time he emerged, his bowl discarded. Bill sat next to him without thinking. For a second, he wondered if he sat too close. His knee was brushing Dipper’s thigh. Dipper didn’t seem to mind, though, so Bill settled down and fixed his eyes to the television without really watching.

“So, wanna watch last night’s Ghost Hunters?” Dipper asked a few moments later, holding up the remote.

“Oh, uh …” Bill shrugged. “I mean, I’m kind of behind.”

“How far?”

“Umm … bout a season, I think.”

“ _What?_  You mean you didn’t even see it when the crew found that spider quee—” Dipper clapped his jaw shut, and then turned to the television. “Don’t worry, I have the last three seasons recorded. What was the last episode you saw?”

Bill twisted his lips, fighting the urge to lean over and kiss him.  _He’s such a nerd._ “I don’t know. Start from the beginning, it’ll be easier that way.”

Dipper nodded and started up the first episode of season 5. Bill didn't pay much attention, staring through his peripheral vision and hoping he wasn’t being too obvious. Or maybe he should be more obvious. He really wanted to know Dipper’s thoughts on last night. _  
_

“You want anything to eat?” Dipper asked suddenly, and Bill blinked. The thought of food sent a wave of nausea rolling through him and he shook his head. They fell back into the painful silence, much to Bill’s displeasure.  _  
_

After taking about ten minutes to build up what was left of his courage, Bill cleared his throat. “Sooo … about last night,” he started, scratching his chin. He could sense Dipper watching him, and some of his courage fell away. “Umm … we made out last night, right?”

He looked up at Dipper, who had started blushing intensely. He touched his mouth and looked away, lips twitching, before turning back to Bill. “Um, well, yeah. That’s a thing that happened.”

Bill sighed with relief, smiling though it quickly fell away at his next thought.  _So the vomiting thing must have happened, too. Uuuuuugh._ “Um, so … was that a one-time thing, then? The kissing thing, that is.”

A slightly panicked look crossed Dipper’s face. “I, um, I mean, if that’s what you want …”

“ _No_.”

“Oh.” Dipper ran a hand through his hair, looking unabashedly pleased with himself. Then, he mumbled, “You wanna do it again?”

“What?”

“You know. The making out thing.” Dipper looked up at him shyly, and Bill found himself nodding with an embarrassing amount of enthusiasm.

“You’re going to need to refresh my memory anyway,” he said, his breathing pitching as Dipper leaned over. He placed a hand on Bill’s cheek and deliberated which way to lean his head. Bill’s heart pounded in his chest, making his headache worse, but he didn’t care. The only thing he cared about was Dipper on top of him, preferably without his clothes on, but he was sure they could work their way up to that.

Dipper kissed him with an intensity that surprised him, forcing him onto his back. Bill’s head spun as Dipper angled his head, deepening their contact. Bill sighed into his mouth, closing his eyes and spreading out his legs as Dipper settled on top of him. _Things went better than expected_ , he thought as Dipper wound his other hand through his hair.  _No vomit this time_   _either. Wait, don’t think that, you’ll jinx it._ He played with the waistband of Dipper’s pants before pressing his cold hand against his stomach. Dipper giggled and batted his handaway.

“No,  _no_ , none of that, Cipher.”

“What, are you ticklish?”

“ _No_ —”

But Bill had already brought both hands up and dragged his fingers across Dipper’s sides, much to his protest. Bill smiled, but that quickly vanished when Dipper retaliated, stuffing his hands up Bill’s shirt. He shrieked, pain exploding in his head.

“ _NO_ , NO, Pine Tree,  _please_. Have mercy.” He cringed, rubbing his temples.

“Oh, shit. Sorry.” Dipper retracted his hands, his expression apologetic. He gave him a small smile, and threaded his fingers into his hair, rubbing small circles into his scalp. Bill sighed. Dipper leaned down and placed a small kiss against his mouth, which Bill eagerly reciprocated.

They lay there for the rest of the morning, despite the fact that Bill knew for a fact 8-Ball would be furious at him for not helping with clean up. But Bill didn’t want to think about his surly roommate right now. Or the essay that he still hadn’t started that was due on Tuesday. Or the fact that he’d be starting work later today with a ripe hangover. Or anything, really.

 _Just me and Pine Tree_.  _That's all I need right now._

_I knew that that party was a good idea._

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on tumblr [@athina-blaine](http://athina-blaine.tumblr.com/)


End file.
